


Don't Go Without Me

by Brumeier



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Best Friends, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Kidnapping, M/M, Rescue Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2014-07-15
Packaged: 2018-02-08 22:48:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1959018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When one of their own is taken Team Sheppard organizes a rescue...or will it become a mission of vengeance?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Go Without Me

**Author's Note:**

> All the usual disclaimers apply. Just having fun, though the characters might disagree with that assessment. ::grins::

John feels like his brain has short-circuited. Everything has narrowed down to one point, one image on a monitor, and nothing else gets through to him – not Elizabeth’s placating words or Ronon’s hand on his shoulder or Carson’s quiet gasp of dismay. He’s not sure he’s even breathing, except he hasn’t passed out and so he must be. He wonders if this is how Rodney felt having to watch him get his life sucked out a little at a time by Todd.

Rodney is strapped to a chair, arms and legs secured with rope. He’s been gagged, which isn’t exactly surprising, and there are wires attached to his chest. His shirt gapes open, pale freckled skin looking incredibly delicate onscreen. He’s sitting completely still, but his eyes are rolling and wild and John can see he’s completely terrified.

The wires lead to some kind of console that looks like it came straight out of an old Frankenstein movie. It doesn’t look Ancient, though that’s small comfort. If it’s as cobbled together as it looks, there’s a chance it could kill Rodney by accident. John feels a fresh flush of fear wash over him.

_…hoarding them for yourselves!_ Claria’s words break through John’s consciousness and his attention momentarily focuses on her. She’s standing to one side of the screen, making sure they all have a clear view of Rodney, and she looks angry. 

She’s the de facto leader of a group of rebels from PRW-635, her blonde hair cut military short. She, like the others in the room with her, wears a brown leather coat and dark pants stuffed into boots. They want Atlantis, and the tech held within it, and kidnapping Rodney is their plan for achieving it. They’d nabbed him while he was consulting with Lorne’s team off-world and John is still harboring a lot of misplaced anger at his 2IC. He can’t help feeling that if he’d been there no-one would’ve been able to get their hands on Rodney. The fact that the rest of AR-2 suffered serious injuries in the process of Rodney getting snatched hardly seems to matter.

The official position of the Atlantis mission is that the city needs to be treated as a fortified holding, mainly due to the fact that in all of the Pegasus galaxy it holds the only Stargate capable of dialing Earth. If the city falls into enemy hands it would put the whole Milky Way galaxy at risk. John knows this, accepts it, and yet still he wishes Elizabeth would concede to Claria’s demands.

“Holding Dr. McKay captive won’t help you achieve your goals,” Elizabeth points out. She’s clearly trying to stay professional but she’s just as upset by this turn of events as everyone else. John becomes aware that a small group has gathered around the monitor, including Teyla and Radek and Cadman.

_Without him you will be unable to make Atlantis work for you._

John shares a look of confusion with Radek. He has no idea where she got that impression, but he can already see the flaw in her logic and apparently so can Elizabeth.

“If you hurt him, he won’t be able to help you make Atlantis work either.”

Claria shakes her head. _We require no such help. We are native to this place, unlike yourselves._

“Our expedition consists of many scientists,” Elizabeth says. “There are others who can do what Dr. McKay does. It makes no sense for you to harm him.”

This is going downhill fast and John knows it. They can’t give Claria what she wants and the only thing she has to negotiate with is Rodney; if she can’t find a use for him he’s as good as dead. He wonders if Rodney can see them, his colleagues and friends gathered together. He wishes he could catch Rodney’s eye, offer him some words of support.

_You would condemn Dr. McKay to a painful death?_

“I am responsible for everyone on Atlantis,” Elizabeth replies tightly. “I won’t trade their lives for his.”

It’s the right thing to say, from a moral standpoint. John even agrees, generally speaking – as the military leader he bears the same burden of responsibility for every military and civilian life on the expedition. But this is _Rodney_ , and nothing is as clear as it should be.

_We shall see_. Claria steps back and nods at one of her henchman, who moves in front of the device and pushes a button.

Rodney’s eyes immediately roll back in his head and he convulses, pulling against his bonds. He makes a strangled, horrible sound behind the gag and John’s hands curl into painful fists, nails biting into his palms. Ronon’s grip on his shoulder tightens. John wants to scream. He wants his hands wrapped around Claria’s throat as he crushes her windpipe.

It feels endless, but in reality it’s only about ten seconds before the button is pushed again and Rodney slumps forward, head lolling. John can only be grateful that it’s over, though he’s not foolish enough to think it’ll be the last time that Rodney is made to suffer at Claria’s hands. There’s more discussion, more empty words, and then the screen goes blank. It hardly matters, because John can still see everything so clearly in his mind. The loss of the connection makes him panic, though, because it’s better to see what’s happening than have to wonder.

“There must be something we can do,” Carson says, sounding as desperate as John feels. “Elizabeth…”

“I’m open to suggestions!” she snaps back. “I can’t let them come here, and they won’t accept anything less than that.”

“Can we track the transmission?” Radek directs his question to Chuck, who looks thoughtful.

“No. At least, not quickly. Whatever tech they’re using is shielding their location. I can’t get a lock.”

“Rodney’s transmitter?” Carson asks. John is shaking his head before Radek jumps in with the answer.

“Out of range. We need to be on same planet.”

“We’ve got two hours,” Elizabeth says wearily. “Let’s find some way of tracking that transmission.”

Everyone scatters, leaving John, Ronon and Teyla still standing in front of the blank monitor. There’s nothing for him to do, no way to lend assistance. His part will only come when there’s a location, a way to rescue Rodney. When that moment comes John vows that Claria and her men will pay with their lives for daring to hurt one of his own.

“We’ll find him, Sheppard,” Ronon says confidently.

“He can’t take much more of that,” John says, and his voice sounds too rough. “If we don’t get to him in time…”

“We found you. We’ll find him.”

Teyla stands at his side and takes one of his fists in both her hands. “Rodney is stronger than he lets on.”

They’re probably right but John finds no comfort in their words. Yes, they found John when he’d been taken by Kolya but they’d had Rodney working on the problem. And even then if things had gone differently with Todd they would’ve been too late. 

Failing Rodney would be unforgiveable.

*o*o*o*

Two hours later, Radek and Chuck have created a digital worm that will be able to track back to the origin of Claria’s signal, provided she stays on the line long enough for it to work – the Atlantis version of a phone trace. It will be up to Elizabeth to keep her talking. AR-1 is already geared up and ready to go, and a handful of Marines are waiting in the Jumper Bay. As soon as they have coordinates they’re gone, and God help Claria if Rodney isn’t able to make it out of there under his own steam.

John is actually feeling a bit more hopeful, at least until Claria contacts them again and he gets a look at Rodney. While the Atlantis team spent their time working out a rescue plan, Claria has used hers torturing their Chief Science Officer. The gag is gone, as is his shirt. Burns cover his chest, and the right side of his face is bruised and swollen. John’s hands clench around his P-90, so hard his knuckles turn white. He’s dimly aware of the sounds of distress coming from the others who are looking at the monitor.

“Claria! What have you done?” Elizabeth sounds furious.

_Dr. McKay proves a worthy adversary_ , Claria replies with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. _He gives up nothing but the most useless information. Is it true your cafeteria is serving meatloaf tonight?_

John has to fight the hysterical urge to laugh. He’d underestimated Rodney. Again. He really needs to stop doing that. What else had his teammate given up? The brand of toilet paper they use? The results of his annual physical?

“Stop this before you go too far,” Elizabeth says. “Is all this worth the retribution you’ll face for harming a member of this expedition?”

_Will you allow me and my people entry to the City?_

“You know I can’t do that, not when you clearly have hostile intentions.”

Claria glowers. _That is unacceptable._

John casts a quick glance up at Chuck, who shakes his head. No coordinates yet.

“Then tell me what we can do, short of giving you access to the city.”

_You can watch your scientist die_ , Claria snaps.

One of John’s hands twitches toward the monitor, as if he can stop what’s about to happen. He expects them to turn the machine back on, but Claria stretches one arm off screen and when she pulls it back there’s a gun in her hand, standard Genii issue.

“Claria, don’t do this.” Elizabeth’s voice is so sharp it could draw blood. “You don’t want us as your enemy.”

_I think it’s a little late for that._

Rodney raises his head then, his right eye swollen nearly shut, and John sucks in a breath when it seems he’s looking right at him. He wants to offer words of comfort, wants to tell Rodney that he’ll find him and to hang on, but his mouth is suddenly dry as a bone.

There’s no fear on Rodney’s face now, just an unbearable despair. He mouths one word – _John_ – and then Claria turns the gun on him. The sound of it going off deafens John and he flinches in a way he never does when he’s the one firing. If anyone around him says anything he can’t process it, doesn’t hear it. His vision tunnels down to the spreading bloom of blood on Rodney’s chest, the way his muscles tense. He looks so surprised in that one instant.

It’s like all the air gets sucked out of the room as Rodney shudders, blood bubbling out of his mouth, and then goes horribly still. John’s vision clouds, goes red as Rodney’s blood, and he loses time. Wishes he could stay lost forever.

*o*o*o*

John comes back to himself as Ronon drags him up to the Jumper Bay. His throat is tight and throbbing, his upper arm painfully held in the Satedan’s iron grip. He stumbles over his own feet, and Ronon shoots him a quick glance. Nodding at whatever he sees on John’s face, he lets go of his arm.

“We have the address.”

“Too late,” John croaks, wishing for water. There’s nothing anyone can do, nothing they can say. He watched his best friend die and waits for this to cause some sort of reaction within him, but maybe he died a little too because all he feels is hollow.

“She has to pay,” Ronon snaps out. It should be funny, him getting so worked up over Rodney, but it’s not. Somehow, inexplicably, Rodney and Ronon became friends; the whole team is more family than anything else. They shouldn’t have fit together, any of them, but they do. And now a member of his family has been taken away.

Ronon’s anger feeds John’s, filling the emptiness inside him. He’s right, Claria has to pay. More than anyone else on the expedition Rodney was vital to their continued safety. Vital to John’s continued sanity. His loss will not go unpunished.

Teyla and the Marines are waiting in Jumper One, faces somber and, in Teyla’s case, a mask of grief. John can’t look at her and goes straight for the pilot’s chair. The lower Bay doors open and he maneuvers the Jumper down into the Gate Room, which is suspiciously empty of staff when they get there. Only Chuck remains at his post, his face grim but determined. John gives him the high sign and he dials up the address for them.

“I will help bring Rodney home,” Teyla says as the Gate dials. “I will _not_ participate in needless bloodshed.”

“You won’t have to,” Ronon replies tersely. He takes his weapon off stun and John doesn’t know why that one simple act comforts him but it does. They’ll go and do what needs to be done, and bring Rodney’s body home so that his friends may properly mourn him. It suddenly becomes hard for him to breathe, until Teyla lays a gentle hand on his head.

The wormhole forms with a whoosh and ripple, and what’s left of AR-1 flies through, armed and ready. Their timing is impeccable. When they burst out the other end of the wormhole they find Claria and her people gathered nearby, making ready their own departure. They immediately go on the defensive, though they can’t see that anything has come through because John initiated the cloak just before they crossed the event horizon.

He lands the puddlejumper nearby, and then waits patiently. He has nothing but time now. The wormhole disengages and eventually Claria’s group relaxes, setting aside their weapons and going back to checking their gear.

When he deems the time right, John drops the rear hatch and the Marines spill out, guns at the ready and barking orders at the rebels. Claria’s people don’t hesitate, diving for their own weapons and immediately engaging the Marines in an exchange of gunfire. Bullets ping off the side of the Jumper as John returns fire.

The rebels are outgunned, and cut-off from the Gate so they have no-where to go, no cover to hide behind. The Marines round up the survivors, securing them with zip ties, but John only has eyes for Claria. She has a bullet in her hip and is still somehow mobile, moving with painful deliberation toward the treeline.

John blocks her, his P-90 pointed directly at her forehead. There’s nothing in her eyes but pain and hate, and he screams at her.

“HE WAS MY FRIEND!” 

It’s not enough, but John doesn’t have a word for exactly what Rodney means to him. Is there one word that can adequately describe someone who knows how to push all your buttons, but also how to get you out of your head after the worst day imaginable? Someone who understands the beauty of numbers, and John’s need to fly? Rodney is a million things wrapped up in a sarcastic, intelligent, uncompromising package, and the thought of never seeing him again makes it hard for John to breathe.

His finger twitches on the trigger, but then Ronon is there pushing the barrel down and shaking his head. “Not like this, Sheppard.”

John turns on him, incredulous. “What do you mean? This is why we came!”

“She’s injured and unarmed. There’s no honor in killing her that way.”

“Honor?” John shoves Ronon as hard as he can, but the big man doesn’t move. “Is there honor in what _she_ did? She has to pay!”

“She will,” Teyla says softly, coming up behind them. “And she will bear witness. She will tell others that Lanteans will not be bullied, blackmailed or taken advantage of. If you hurt one of us, we will hurt you back.”

“Eye for an eye,” Ronon adds. “Like in the Tau’ri book.”

John wants to argue but all of a sudden it’s like the anger has drained out of him, leaving him weak and hollow again. Killing the rebels, capturing Claria, changes nothing. He wants to find Rodney and go home, and maybe drink himself into a coma for a while.

The Marines secure Claria with the others, and then dial up the Alpha Site. She’ll never get her wish of going to Atlantis, not even as a prisoner. Two Marines stay behind to stand guard at the Gate.

There’s a structure several yards away, possibly some kind of outpost or guard station. John saw it from the Jumper when they first came through and it’s most likely the place they’ll find Rodney’s body. His feet drag as he walks towards it, and he’s pretty sure the only reason he keeps moving forward is because he has his team at his side.

When they finally get there, when they’re standing outside the door, John finds that he can’t go in, can’t make himself cross the threshold. Teyla gives him an understanding look and offers to go in, scout around, find their teammate. Ronon stays outside with John, both of them leaning against the wall.

John stares at his feet. “It wasn’t supposed to be this way.”

“Should’ve been you?”

“No. Maybe. It’s my _job_ to be that guy. I’m supposed to protect him.”

Ronon nods his head, dreadlocks bouncing. “You’re the one who’s supposed to die. Either way, I’m killing people. Just then it’s McKay suffering instead of you.”

John frowns. “That’s not what I mean.”

“Isn’t it? No easier losing you, Sheppard.”

He doesn’t bother trying to dispute that. In his head he’s thinking of all the things he’ll never do again, now that Rodney’s not there to do them with. Late night beers out on the pier. Remote controlled car races in the hall. Arguing over who’s the best superhero, Batman or Superman. Watching the light shine out of Rodney’s eyes when he snaps his fingers and gets a brilliant idea that saves all their lives.

“We all loved him,” Ronon says.

_Not like me_ , John wants to say. _Not the way I did_. And he kicks himself for not saying anything when he had the chance, for being too concerned about regs and appearances and screwing up team dynamics. Rodney shouldn’t have died not knowing he was loved.

_Colonel Sheppard. Ronon. Get in here._

It’s an unusually terse message and John already has his gun in his hand as he heads for the door.

“Teyla, what’s wrong?”

_There’s something you have to see._

The very first thing that pops into John’s mind is that she found a ZPM. Rodney’s most coveted prize, and how cruel for him to have died so close to one when they’d been nearly impossible to find. John uses his free hand to pull out the Life Signs Detector, to keep the radio chatter down just in case there are still hostiles in the building.

They go down two flights of stairs and John decides this must’ve been an Ancient outpost after all. He can’t even imagine what they might have been doing out here, and discovers that he really doesn’t care. When Rodney’s life was snuffed out so was the joy of living in a different galaxy and exploring the unknown.

Teyla is two flights down, at the end of a short corridor. There is one other life sign besides hers, so she must’ve found a rebel hiding out. She pops her head out of the open doorway and beckons them inside. The room is filled with consoles, metal containers, large empty crates…it’s like some kind of Ancient broom closet. Stuffed in one corner of it, initially overlooked by John as he scanned the room, is a stasis unit, the lights on it blinking green.

“I don’t…understand,” he murmurs. He’s at a complete loss.

*o*o*o*

“You have to fix him!” John shouts, which isn’t fair to Carson. He already looks miserable, his expression stuck between grief and guilt.

 _Please fix him_. John closes his eyes, wishes he had someone to pray to that might actually be listening. God. The Ancients. The Great Green Arkleseizure.

The mood in the infirmary abruptly changes, fearful mutterings making John lift his head, open his eyes. The inside of the stasis unit is flooded with a light that goes brighter by the second, until Rodney’s body is no longer visible and John has to cover his eyes so as not to be blinded.

“Carson! What’s happening?”

“I’ve no idea!” Carson says, sounding harried. He’s checking his equipment, checking the read-outs.

“Is he ascending?” Teyla asks.

Maybe someone heard his prayer after all, John thinks sickeningly. This isn’t what he meant, not what he wanted at all. He rests his forehead against the glass, light whiting everything out even with his eyes screwed shut.

“Don’t go,” he whispers. “Not without me. Please.”

Carson clears the infirmary, on the off chance that the stasis pod is about to explode, but there’s no moving John. Together they man their posts – Carson at his computer and John kneeling beside the pod, willing Rodney to stay inside it. He doesn’t realize that there’s been noise all this time, a kind of electrical song at the back of his mind, until it’s abruptly gone.

John blinks his eyes open at the silence, the spots dancing in front of his eyes taking a little while to clear. The light is gone now, too, and he’s afraid to look, afraid he might see Rodney’s bloody, nearly lifeless body. And afraid he might not see anything at all.

“What did you _do_?” Carson asks, eyes wide as he stares at John across the top of his computer monitor. “Bloody hell, John.”

“I didn’t do anything.” But that’s a lie, he knows it as soon as he looks and sees Rodney through the glass. Gone are the burns, the bruises and the blood. Gone is the hole left behind by Claria’s bullet. Rodney looks healthy, his normally pale skin tinged pink.

“The stasis pod shouldna be able to do that. It’s not a sarcophagus.” Carson’s accent thickens as he taps the keyboard. “It’s…you’ve activated some mechanism…he’s perfectly healthy. Jesus, John.”

“Get him out,” John says urgently. He needs to know for sure, needs to _touch_ , needs to hear Rodney’s voice. “Get him out!”

Carson obliges. He taps out a configuration on the pod keypad and the lights flicker from green to yellow as the whole front of the thing swings up and out. Carson feels for a pulse, eyes alight with relief when he finds one. Seconds later Rodney is groaning and twitching as he wakes from his enforced sleep.

“It’s alright, Rodney,” Carson says. “Take it easy, now.”

When Rodney blinks his blue eyes open, sleepy and confused, John feels like his whole chest is on fire. He helps Carson lift Rodney from the pod and deposit him on a nearby bed. He’s still wearing his black field cargos and boots, thigh holster strapped on but empty. John covers him with a blanket, pulling it up to his chin to help stave off any chill he might feel from being shirtless.

“Wha’?” Rodney mumbles. 

“It’s okay,” John says as soothingly as he can manage. “We’ll explain later. Just…you just…”

The words get lodged in his throat and he chokes on them. He can’t stop touching Rodney – rubbing his arm, smoothing the hair on his head, squeezing his knee through the blankets. 

Carson puts his hand on John’s shoulder and gives it a squeeze before making himself scarce. John appreciates the sentiment, but he doesn’t know what to say now that he has the chance. All he’s wanted all day is to talk to Rodney, tell him everything he’s been holding back, but none of it will come.

“’s 'kay,” Rodney says sleepily. He pats John’s hand and falls asleep, leaving John standing there beside the bed, slowly shaking apart.

*o*o*o*

John doesn’t leave Rodney’s side, not that anyone tries to make him. He stands guard as the others come one by one to see him, touch him, assure themselves that he’s alive and well. Rodney accepts all the attention with quiet confusion, his eyes constantly tracking over to John as if to reassure himself.

All of Carson’s tests come back normal, as if nothing happened to Rodney at all. If anything, he’s even healthier than he’d been before Claria had kidnapped him. Radek has the stasis pod taken to the labs to be studied; he wants to see if they can recreate whatever it was that completely healed Rodney. John doesn’t much care.

He walks Rodney back to his room after a one night stay in the infirmary. Rodney is wearing standard-issue white scrubs, which look ridiculous on him, and everyone they pass in the corridors either nods or says hello.

“I don’t think I like being a celebrity,” he grumbles. “It’s not like I solved the ZedPM problem. Being alive is hardly grounds for mindless adoration.”

“They’re just happy to see you.”

“It’s morbid.”

It was normal banter, no reason at all that John’s chest should feel so tight. He didn’t have to look to know that Rodney kept sending concerned glances his way, which was ironic. Rodney has been unusually tight-lipped about what he remembers and what he doesn’t, beyond an understanding that he was pulled back from the brink of death. He hasn’t called John on his constant presence, either, though that changes as soon as they’re in Rodney’s room and the door slides shut behind them.

“You can stop coddling me now,” Rodney says, arms crossed. “I’m not going to break.”

“I’m not coddling you.”

“Babysitting, then. Whatever you’re doing you can stand down. I’m not likely to need rescuing in my own room.” Rodney remains stubbornly unmoved, and his whole posture is so familiar that it makes John’s breath catch in his throat. He almost lost that. Almost lost everything that matters to him, and whatever expression crosses his face finally moves Rodney, who is immediately at his side with a hand on his arm.

“Sheppard?”

John can’t get the words out, the ones that have been in a never ending loop in his head since he first saw Rodney on that monitor. It’s as if there’s a broken connection between his brain and his mouth, and he stares at Rodney, willing him to understand. And maybe Rodney gets it, because he pulls John into a tight, full-body hug and John just holds on, his hands fisted in the back of that plain white scrub top.

“I’m sorry you had to see it,” Rodney says, his voice thick with emotion.

_I’m sorry I couldn’t get to you_ , John wants to say. _I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you_. Instead he tightens his arms and presses his face into the side of Rodney’s neck. Rodney, who doesn’t seem to need the words to know what’s in John’s heart, presses a kiss that lands somewhere near one slightly pointed ear.

_I’m okay now_ , Rodney’s hands say as they run up and down John’s back.

_I can’t lose you again_ , John’s heart says as it pounds frantically in his chest.

_You are loved_ , their lips say as they meet for the first time. And finally John can let it all go and revel in the fact that here and now Rodney is alive, he’s whole, and they’re together in the way he’s been wanting so long.

Much later, when they lay curled in Rodney’s bed with moonlight lending everything an ethereal glow, John will watch his best friend sleep. He’ll run his hand over one broad shoulder and twine Rodney’s clever fingers with his own, and whisper, “Don’t go.”

And Rodney, who was only really half asleep, will pull John down and curl around him and whisper back, “Not without you.”

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Inspired by the hauntingly beautiful song [C’est La Mort](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z50k367WgPs) by The Civil Wars.
> 
> This poor fic has been sitting around for ages, lacking only the final scene. It was my desperate desire to have fic for SGA…Ten Years Later that gave me the kick in the ass to finally finish it. So thank you!


End file.
